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Valentina pov

I often experience that nervous, fluttery feeling in my stomach. In fact, numerous things can trigger it for me, and it's not limited to just love or intimacy. Going clubbing, spending time with my closest friend, or simply feeling happy can all do the trick.

However, the news in front of me is an exception. It doesn't elicit those butterflies or excitement associated with new experiences. I never saw this coming, and I never envisioned my life heading in this direction. I'm still in disbelief, with my jaw hanging open in shock.

"Val, we understand this is a surprise, but it's necessary," my mother starts, her hand on my thigh, snapping me back to reality. My father sits across from me, wearing a deeply concerned expression, appearing more frail than ever before.

"We have to save your father's failing business. We discussed it extensively, and we believed it was time for you to be informed. Now is the right moment for you two to meet and get to know each other better."

I can't handle it any longer, not because I have a boyfriend, but because I don't want anyone interfering with my life or making decisions for me.

"No, Mother," I respond sharply, startling her. I turn to her with determination. "I won't meet anyone, and that's final."

"Valentina," Father interjects firmly. This isn't about them; it's about me.

I'm 23 years old, for heaven's sake. How can I be engaged to some guy for my entire life without even knowing about it? I have a boyfriend. I have a life that I cherish, a life that truly excites me.

I won't go through with this.

"Dad, I won't do it," I declare earnestly. "This is my life, and I can choose whether or not to meet my supposed betrothed. I have a boyfriend, for heaven's sake!"

I didn't intend to raise my voice at my father, but here I am doing just that.

"I won't tolerate you speaking ill of my husband like that, you foolish girl," Mother scolds me sternly, removing her hands from my thighs.

Did she just defend her husband? They were at odds last night, and I didn't bother to inquire about the issue. Their problems are their own, and I have no reason to get involved.

Since my father's company went bankrupt, he and Mother have been having difficulties. She's struggling to adapt to this new lifestyle he's offering us.

Adapting was tough initially, but I find it easy to adjust to new things or places. Embracing a middle-class life is one of the simplest transitions for me.

"Really?" I peer down at her, accompanied by a scoff.

"Really. Is this the life you desire for yourself? When was the last time we went shopping, huh? When was the last time we threw a grand party like we used to? I know this isn't what you want..."

"No," I laugh. This is certainly not what I want. This is what my mother desires, and she intends to use me to sustain that lifestyle.

What I seek are constant butterflies, always being present.

My primary desire is for Fred to cease his infidelity. Getting married at this point in my life, especially to a stranger, is not something I desire.

"You need to assist your father, dear," she begins, adopting that soft, enticing tone she always employs when she wants me to comply. "Your father requires this help. The Lorenzos won't aid us until we fulfill our promise of marrying you to their son. You'll like him, just give it a try..."

"I have a BOYFRIEND, Mother!" I exclaim, rising from the sofa in anger, my chest heaving. "I have a boyfriend, for heaven's sake."

"The same one who repeatedly cheats on you with other girls?" She retorts sharply, standing up to my eye level.

What? How does she know about Fred's infidelity?

He promised to change, and I granted him another chance, but I caught him again, just two nights ago, this time with someone I know. She's one of those who give me those butterflies and make me happy.

They were having an intimate encounter, and I discovered them in the act at a party I was invited to by the same girl I caught with my boyfriend.

I had informed them that I would be running late, and it seems they took the opportunity to engage in their actions before my arrival. They must have been doing this for quite some time.

It shattered me.

I wept.

But I'm a resilient person. Fred always returns to apologize, and I waited anxiously for his calls all night, but they never came until yesterday morning when his text arrived.

He apologized for his mistake.

Brenda has always been alluring, and I'm convinced she enticed him. I want nothing to do with Brenda ever again, but I'll ensure she regrets being intimate with my boyfriend. Fred is still my boyfriend, and what happened two nights ago doesn't change that. Just because he was with my best friend doesn't mean I'm letting him go. Fred and I are still together, and I'm patiently waiting for him to gather the courage to come and beg me.

"That guy who keeps hurting you?" My mother's voice is raised. "Do you even know what you're doing? He consistently cheats on you, and you keep taking him back?"

Who informed her about this? I wonder, tears welling up in my eyes.

Was it Brenda? Brenda is my best friend, but she's close to my mother, and they discuss everything and anything. Did she disclose Fred's infidelity to my mother? She's always criticized him and urged me to leave him, but now I understand her strong desire for me to break up with Fred.

She wants him for herself, but that's not going to happen.

"We're offering you a good life," she continues. "This man is handsome and wealthy. He's the youngest billionaire in New York. What more do you want?"

"What do I want?" I retort, then point my finger at her. "What I want is for both of you to stop meddling in my life."

She's taken aback by my tone. My father watches silently. After sparing him a glance, I move past my mother to leave when her voice stops me.

"You will marry Rocco whether you like it or not, Valentina. You two have been betrothed since childhood, and I won't allow you to make a wrong decision when he's clearly better than your cheating boyfriend."

I'm tempted to return to her and express the depth of my emotions about how Fred makes me feel. It's not just about the butterflies; there's more to it. I want to proclaim my love for Fred and emphasize what a genuine man he is. He may not be as wealthy as this supposed billionaire, but he's a real man.

Instead of following through with my thoughts, I exit the living room and head to the front door with a single purpose in mind: I'm going to win him back. Brenda won't succeed.